Blood and Ballers
by aterreri
Summary: A short story about a frustrated vampire in search of glory in a championship basketball game but is robbed by a bad call from an official. Things take a turn for the bloody in this campy vampire tale.


Blood _and _Ballers

By Alex Terreri

IT was really a little too easy. One minute I was panting, all of my focus and energy centered on the game and in the next I stood in the middle of Stoker High School's gymnasium, hundreds of eyes fixated on me and what I had just done.

To any other ref it would have been an easy call. Yeah I had the ability to run a _little_ faster than most kids and hit a _little_ harder but charge the defender? I was better than that, more careful. I ran at the 6' 7'' kid to hit the drive in the final seconds and win it. He'd seen what I was able to do to the other kids that were bigger than even him and was definitely intimidated. Rightly so. It may have helped too that I had shown some of the opposing players some of my _abilities_ the previous night in order to thin out their bench a little, some might call that extortion but I just called it a preview.

The big man was not among the frightened yet, so when I went up to take the shot, he just stood there nice and straight while I drove in for the lay up. There was _barely_ any contact and the flabby flopper toppled right over and huddled up in pain. Pansy. Everyone in this gym could see how ridiculous and poorly acted this charade was except for Vincent Helsinger.

I knew the name of this referee and the other three that _dropped_ out before him. I of course had to pay them a visit before the game just to make sure they knew _what_ _kind_ of player I was and what exactly I was _capable_ of. The first two refs canceled their duties at the game within hours leaving me very little time to _demonstrate_ for Mr. Helsinger.

He was whiffing calls all night on both sides but up until this moment he had made all the right choices with me. After I scored the basket while fatty's still hunched over, the ref couldn't seem to pull out his slimey whistle fast enough. I don't know how many whistle blows is regulation for "charging" but I'm pretty sure it was less than seven.

After the call, my cool-headed coach saunters over to Helsinger to argue on my behalf because he knows what happens when I get angry. Most people don't like it when I'm angry. After maybe only 30 seconds of arguing my coach comes wandering back over to me on the bench while my other teammates are trying to calm me down. They don't like it when I'm angry either. He tries to explain to me how I did run into that defender and knock him down and the ref clearly saw me get into big boy's space but I wasn't hearing any of it. The more this simpleton tried to explain his flawed view of the situation to me the more _red_ I saw.

In the gym the tension was rising. The other side of the stands was celebrating their "victory" in the championship game while our side was slowing shuffling out. All except for one. My father and I have an unconventional relationship, yeah we eat dinner together and do activities with each other but most would classify those meals and hobbies as... _paranormal_. He is always saying to me how our bloodline is sacred and how we are destined for greatness and what-have-you but all I want is to be in the NBA. I have been practicing for quite awhile now and a couple scouts I've talked to over the years said I had the potential but my father constantly reminds me how that can never happen in our situation and how people would recognize me and it would bring too much attention and blah blah blah. So I've been stuck in High School games for a long time now grabbing the little moments of glory when I can get them.

I think that was when I snapped. When I gazed over and saw that disappointed look on his face I was reminded of everything I could never have and all the literal hell I've been through because of my father and our "situation". For him to have the audacity to look at me like that just put me over the edge. That feeling is really hard to explain. I guess the closest words would be fury and frenzy, but I feel like they don't really do justice. I look up at my closest friend Frankie patting me on the shoulder and trying to hold my attention but when I look up at him, he starts to pull the other players back from around me and get them to a distance.

My body language immediately shifts. My back becomes curved at a predatory angle and my fingers and teeth elongate to unnatural lengths. My vision becomes very tunneled and I find it hard to focus on anything but one central, carnal idea.

Eyewitnesses over the years (whose accounts are usually tossed aside like bigfoot sightings and conspiracy theories) have described attacks made by my kind as being almost too fast to see. A dark blur, a splash of red, and its over in an instant. All that's left is the mess to clean up and the horrified look on people's faces. From our perspective however, everything is quite clear. I whip around and glare very intently at my prey and for the first time in a while I smiled. He barely had time to shriek but the time I was on him. Despite the very public local I had the desire to take my time but thought the better of it and ended him in milliseconds. There were a few blissful moments of complete shock and horror before it hit the fan.

It began with a single shriek from somewhere in the bleachers and a very instant chorus quickly began to accompany her scream and it was all music to my ears. I knew what it meant for me and my dad and the disappointment and anger he must have felt towards me for doing what I had done but for those first few seconds I really didn't care. Then reality began to set in.

Me and my dad would have to pick up and move again, somewhere really rural and isolated judging by the severity of my actions and the impossible amount of witnesses to silence. This was nothing new, we've been moving between podunk towns for quite a while but I really do miss the city. Maybe I can talk my dad into taking Frankie with us this time but considering the huge lecture I'm going to get about responsibility and self-control or whatever, I highly doubt I'll ever see my friend again.

Despite all of that I wouldn't hesitate to do it again. This ref stole my moment of glory away from me that I deserved. Practicing for years and years, putting up with teachers and coaches that don't know half of what I do all for moments like that game winning drive and basket with everyone's eyes on me that he stole away. So I took it back.

Maybe in this new town I'll make good friends like Frankie and have a better coach. Hell, I may even try a new game altogether and switch things up a bit. Maybe dad will let me do track or something. Yeah, maybe.


End file.
